it's in the middle of the table
her hand, so delicate, refined natural nails
pounces
and retracts holding a toasted pita piece
dripping warm hummus
mmmm she murmurs
while he's reading he reaches absent
mindedly across the table, the long dark hairs
on his arms glisten under the overhead light
I watch all this
and when their hands are empty, they find
each other, clasping each other
without looking.
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